


Consuelo

by eyemeohmy



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: M/M, Plug'n'Play, Slash, sparksex-iiiish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bayformers, post-07movie. 'Vacations' to hot springs are fun, especially when Ironhide is bitching the entire time. SLASH; Ironhide/Ratchet</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written in 2008, by-the-by. I fixed it up, but there's still plenty of things I'm HURM with. Ah, wells.
> 
> Before we get onto the story, I've got some author notes to pass along:
> 
>  **WATER** : I went back to G1 logic on this and water apparently does very little to Transformers. Prime examples include water-based Transformers (Seaspray, etc.), the Nemesis being an underwater base, battles underwater (re: Hound and Rumble in MtMtE part something lol) and even when Bumblebee was water skiing lol. IMHO, their structure is immune to water, thus they do not short circuit, shut down or rust when within it. This applies to any type of water, be it chlorine or natural.
> 
>  **TRANSLATIONS** : My measurements of time are the following: megamile equal mile, orn equal day, cycle equal hour (though in my fic it alternates between hour and year), klik equal minute and astro/nanosecond is self-explanatory. Though not related but still relevant, the name of this fic/the hot springs, Consuelo, is Spanish for "solace."
> 
>  **ETC** : I'm not a hot springs expert or balneologist, so I'm not sure if I got all the hot springs mumbo jumbo right. Consuelo hot springs are, of course, fictional and don't exist; Hell, I'm not sure I recall any hot springs existing in Nevada. But, fiction.
> 
>  **DISCLAIMER** : HasTak claims all rights to Transformers. I'm just playing with them inappropriately like the toys they are, OHOHOHO!

The summer heat had peaked a little over 99 degrees that morning, spiking to 115 by one in the afternoon. Nevada residents took shelter in their cool homes, resting before fans and their air conditioners, while others enjoyed hours in private pools or nearby lakes. The public pool had been so full, they had to turn people down from entering by 2PM. An unlucky few were forced out into the heat for work, miserable and sweating.

In the middle of nowhere's land, down a natural old road, two vehicles cut through the scarce desert, dust and clouds of dirt billowing into the dry air beneath their wheels. They passed very few spots of civilization, save a gas station and a chain of fast food restaurants some distance away. For the most part, the Hummer H2 and GMC Topkick truck were all alone out in the vacant desert, sun beating relentlessly against their chassis.

"Enlighten me here if you will. So what - exactly - are we looking for again?"

"Hot springs. Specifically, the Consuelo hot springs."

Ironhide's engines rumbled beneath his black hood as he drove alongside his comrade. "I wasn't really paying attention in the briefing," he noted. The only reason he was on this mission with the CMO was because Bumblebee had prior engagements with Sam and Mikaela; according to the humans, their mission involved watching something dangerous known as "boat racing" somewhere down the Salt Lake. Optimus, of course, opted to stay back at base and keep an optic on things. Besides, he figured, it was better than spending the entire day doing jack.

Ratchet would have happily gone alone, but considering they were still relatively new to Earth and its many vast cities and territories, Optimus figured it best Ironhide took a ride with him.

The Hummer H2 beside him released a purr of a chuckle. "According to human sources, hot springs are pools of what are called 'water', as you know, geothermally heated by active or inactive volcanic activity from this planet's crust. Some of these hot springs can reach heat up to 212°F, known as a 'boiling point', where as some retain levels low as 70°F, generally classified as 'warm springs'," Ratchet explained simply.

Ironhide was quiet a minute or two, letting all this information slowly soak into his cerebral processor. Water was still a new concept to him and the others, considering they did not have it back on Cybertron; but after being on this planet for nearly a month now, Ironhide pretty much got the gist of it and what it was. Necessity for this planet, in fact; very, very important. Not to mention, he landed in a pool of it on his arrival to Earth.

"So why are we visiting pools of water when there's water nearly everywhere back at the base?" he inquired finally.

"These hot springs are much different from the chlorine pool water back in the city," Ratchet answered. "They contain natural chemicals, untouched by human hands. That is, if Sam's information is correct."

"But--"

"The lakes do not count."

Ironhide huffed a little. "We're driving out into a wasteland of nothingness so you can look at pretty water some human child hasn't possibly peed in."

Ratchet couldn't help but laugh at that. "No, not exactly," he disagreed. "It's for medicinal purposes."

"How so?"

Ratchet drove a few centimeters ahead of him. "On Earth, Balneology is a somewhat underlying practice of physical therapy using the effects and chemicals found in natural hot spring waters. According to various studies, the properties in these volcanic pools have been known to help relax, decrease or even aide in curing certain inflictions, though I believe aforementioned 'cures' only apply to minor disabilities, where as long term illnesses, such as the one known as 'cancer', is used as an alternative treatment," he said. "This scientific study varies around the planet and its many cultures and continents, sited as an age old practice amongst the ancient ancestors of the human race."

All of this was going through one audio sensor and out the other to Ironhide. This medical mumbo-jumbo never really applied to his interests. Just as long as it could be applied to his injuries, that was all he really cared about. It was not to say he disrespected the medical and scientific fields. Just wasn't part of his programming, he supposed. So it was a little hard being on the same wavelength with Ratchet at times.

But still, while Ironhide could care less about even the colors of natural water, he admired Ratchet's compassion for his field. Ultimately that was what kept him from offlining and driving under auto pilot until they reached the site.

"Can this... balneo-whatever be used in aiding our own species?"

"I'm not sure," Ratchet retorted, "my desire to study these hot springs not only come from curiosity, but also research to see if they can benefit our people as well."

That had been enough information to crunch for now. "What's our location anyway?" Ironhide asked with a snort, revving his engines. "We've been driving for a little over nine cycles now."

Ratchet replied in a series of barely audible beeps from his GPS installed in his front seat. A second later, he replied, "Latitude and longitude have - according to the coordinates--"

"Layingman terms, the humans say."

"Layman, actually. And, right yonder those mountains 4.5 megamiles away," Ratchet replied, adding tauntingly, "calm down; we won't be much longer."

Ironhide's exhaust pipe gave a cough of smoke. "Calm down my aft," he scowled, "we've been roasting our hides off out here under this big gas ball for cycles. My coolant systems are overworking themselves to the Pit!"

Ratchet's engines made a low hum, reminiscent of a sigh. "If you're in that much need of a rest," he offered, "we can take a small detour to a gas station two megamiles from here."

Ironhide made an offended hiss. "What makes you think I'm tired, medic?" he grunted. To prove his compatriot he was dead wrong in his assumption, Ironhide's engines howled fiercely as he picked up his speed, closing the space between him and the Hummer. A second later, he was side by side with Ratchet; he gave the medic a playful nudge. But being Ironhide, his lighthearted nudges tended to send one tumbling on their side and rolling away for perhaps a good twenty yards.

"Hey!" Ratchet exclaimed, shoved nearly off the old road. "Knock it off!"

Ironhide just greeted his demand with laughter and drove to his side again; another shove, and Ratchet jerked to the side. The latter pressed down on his brakes to make sure he didn't get too far and lose his balance.

"Oh, this is _very_ mature of you!" Ratchet snapped. He dodged the truck from giving him another bump. "If you're going to play dirty..." the medic smirked, engines flaring. With a rush forward, Ratchet drove up and ahead of Ironhide until there was at least a yard of empty space between them. He then pulled abruptly in front of the weapon's specialist, sending waves of dust and dirt into his window and grill.

"Slag you!" Ironhide shouted over the roaring of Ratchet's engines. His window wipers activated instantly, feverishly shoveling aside the dirt.

The CMO just laughed, spitting more dirt and pebbles at him. "Consider the trip now worthwhile," Ratchet sniggered, "you're going to need that water to clean yourself!"

"Don't make me gun down yer tires!"

"We're undercover, remember?"

"We're in the _middle of nowhere_!"

+

"You're leaking a vast amount of your bodily fluid. Are you sure you shouldn't consult one of your local medics about your condition?" Ratchet had asked Sam when the teenager had slipped out of his alt mode front seat.

Sam ran a hand over his head, wiping off a film of perspiration. "It's called sweating," he informed with a chuckle, face glossy, "humans do it when they're really hot, you see. Except animals, animals don't sweat. Like dogs, for example, they--" The boy stopped when he realized he was rambling and shook a hand at the disguised Autobot. "N-Never mind, I'll tell you later when you get back. I've programmed the destination to Consuelo Springs in your GPS."

"Are you sure this place is void of human activity?" Ironhide asked grumpily, suddenly appearing behind the human. Sam jumped, nearly falling on his rear. Even though Ironhide was a 26 foot tall giant robot, he could still manage to sneak up and scare the shit out of him. Then again, Sam supposed it was all attributed to him being a stealthy soldier.

"Y-Yeah," Sam assured, his heart calming back to a normal beat. "It's way out there in the desert, see, 'bout a hundred or so miles from Arizona and Utah's borders. The hike is said to be killer; lots of people were seriously injured climbing it because it isn't mapped and no trails were made. Some couple almost died 'cause they were stranded out in the middle of nowhere before help arrived, like, four days later. The Arizona and Nevada governments have sorta kinda placed the spring off limits, citing it as a 'natural monument to be admired from afar' or something. And the snakes - let's not even go there..."

Ratchet smirked. "So no need to worry."

"I just don't want to deal with any of curious, nose-pokin' humans today," Ironhide growled, transforming, "or any other day for that matter." His engines switched on with a disapproving noise similar to the one he had just made.

"Well, if there are no humans," Ratchet added playfully, "then you might want to consider it a vacation. Primus knows we haven't had one of those in megacycles."

"Huh!" Ironhide grunted, taking the lead out into the street. "We'll see when we get there."

+

"See? We're here."

Ironhide flexed all his joints and limbs when he finally transformed back into bipedal mode. The first thing he did was give the surroundings a good look, to make sure they didn't have any company. Though he knew he had nothing to worry about, since there wasn't a human soul for miles. Slightly relieved, he approached his partner staring up the side of the mountain, jagged and disjointed, covered in small desert shrubs and snake holes.

Ratchet checked his surveillance data, looking from it to the mountain. "The mountain's summit reaches about 3,721 feet. The Consuelo Springs are located in a valley about 52.8 feet within," he informed, putting his device away.

Ironhide's immediate response was activating his cannons. "All right," he sniffed, readying his weapons, "we'll just blow our way thro--"

"No!" Ratchet scowled, pushing down one of the cannons. Only one of a rare few who could do this without Ironhide turning and setting fire to them. "This is part of the ecosystem, not a target. You want to attract attention?" the medic snapped.

"Middle. Of. Nowhere," Ironhide ground out, irritated. Nonetheless, he turned off his guns. "So are we going to climb this thing then or what?"

Ratchet nodded. "Precisely," he replied. "The humans may not have been able to, but surely we can."

"Primus," Ironhide sighed, hand against his face, "I'm getting too slagging old for this."

+

It didn't take very long to both ascend then descend the mountainsides; their feet hit the ground with a small tremor. Ironhide brushed the shrubs and mud from his hands while Ratchet once more took out his mapping device, surveying the ravine. It was mostly just more rough terrain with scattered clusters of cacti and skeletal plants.

"This place is absolutely 'breathtaking', as the humans say," Ironhide grumbled. It reminded him too much of home, seeing nothing but miles of nothing but dirt. Except back on Cybertron, it wasn't always just fields of desolate space, but homes and buildings and civilization. All laid to ruin. He bristled. "Let's hurry and find these pools so we can get back to base. I'm ten nanoseconds away from launching a missile into the sun."

"Steady now, don't lose your cool," Ratchet said softly. He could feel the negativity circulating inside Ironhide's energy field. He knew immediately this empty place, so quiet and superficially lacking any sign of life beyond plants that looked like they were dead only brought back painful memories.

Thankfully, the medic spotted the springs a short distance away. He pointed forward in their direction. "All right, let's get moving."

+

The walk was much shorter than the climb, and in three minutes, Ironhide and Ratchet stood side by side before the largest hot spring in the area. It was nearly twenty feet in length and fifteen feet wide, with six smaller pools of water barely the width of a grown man dotting alongside it. Steam rose in thick clouds from the water's dark blue bubbling surface, the sun reflected in each of its seven faces.

"Looks like the water's burnin'," Ironhide mused, arms akimbo. He shot Ratchet a look of disapproval. "Perfect for swimmin' on a hot orn."

Ratchet just knelt beside the pool, using his x-ray vision to scan the depth. The weapon's specialist watched the medic silently, looking back and forth, as if waiting for something to happen. At least with driving he was constantly on the move. Before he could say anything, Ratchet sat back and lectured, almost as if to himself, "The depth is approximately 17.3 feet deep, with a temperature of 105°F."

Ironhide tilted his head. "That it?" That better not be all they came here for.

"Of course not!" Ratchet scowled. From a spare compartment along his hip he removed a set of common test tubes. "I want to get samples of the water and test the levels of the chemicals in this spring," he informed. The CMO scooped hot liquid to the brim of every tube, each marked specifically marked.

Naturally this was all quite boring for the poor old soldier. He paced back and forth along the shore of the steaming pool, eying his quivering, dark reflection in its surface. A thought crossed his processor and before he knew it, he had his cannon ready to fire. "I wonder what would happen if I fired a missile into it," he humored aloud, "if it's volcanic, maybe the impact will cause a catastrophic explosion?"

"It's inactive, and _no_ , how about you _don't_!" Ratchet chided, glaring fierce blue eyes at his partner. "Seriously, you don't need to shoot everything you see just to get a reaction!"

Ironhide just chortled to himself, deactivating his cannons. "You test your way, I test mine," he gibed. Ratchet shook his head and went back to filling the tubes. The old mech was pretty positive Ratchet, all and all, knew he was only joking. Though truth be told, it was always hard to tell when Ironhide was kidding around, especially when it came to blowing shit up.

Silence passed between the two.

"But seriously, maybe just one little shot--"

" _No_!"

Ironhide snickered at poor Ratchet's expense. With nothing better to do, he gazed up at the sky. On the horizon there was a dark quilt of black clouds, slowly pouring like molasses over the valley. Ironhide smirked, smile lopsided. There was no way on this hot a day that there'd be a sudden downpour.

+

Suddenly, there was a downpour.

The clouds had been moving gradually closer over the hour, but Ironhide honestly thought the chances of rain were zero. Though he did remember hearing something about scattered showers in some transmission on his radio prior to their arrival at the ravine. Scattered showers to him being not in the middle of the damn desert. But here it was, full storm and all.

The evening sky, once bare and blue, was crowded with black rain clouds, thunder grumbling from their cores and lightning flashing every few seconds. It would pour down hard for a few minutes, then lighten up for another two, before hitting hard again, cycle repeating itself in ad nausem.

Ratchet was lucky to have retrieved all his samples and set up his equipment before the rain got too heavy. Ironhide made a makeshift tent with a large blue tarp sheet, perfect shelter for both him, his partner and his instruments.

The medic tied the last corner of the tent to a large saguaro cactus. Luckily the winds were not as harsh as the rain. "Funny," the chartreuse Autobot chuckled, "I always see you as the type who stood out in the rain like some statue, hardly concerned about the storm around you. Ever and always vigilant. And here you are, all prepared as if going camping."

Ironhide snorted. "I am, actually," he agreed with the former accusation, "but I bring the tarp just in case I need to shelter wounded or weaker soldiers." A large grin played along his dark face.

Ratchet just made a little huff and nothing more, returning to his work while the rain beat mercilessly above their sheltered heads.

+

Another hour passed, but the rain had not let up. Ironhide sat himself by the mouth of the tent, staring out into the black and wet skies. He was offlining every few minutes, bored out of his cranial chamber. Usually he would go out and find something to do, anything to do, despite the storm, but he was in an unknown place, with nothing he _could_ do. God knows Ratchet wouldn't let him have a little fun and blow up a couple boulders here or there. Such a buzzkill.

Aforementioned buzzkill, three seconds later, stood back from cowering over his lab equipment. Ironhide couldn't help but be reminded of that mad scientist Wheeljack back at home; only he tended to blow all his stuff up.

Ratchet turned, looking over a transparent datapad. "Calcium levels read 19.2 percent, montmorillonite and bentonite at 62.4 and 20 percent, respectively and 1270 mg/l of various minerals. Scarce traces of radium at 2.3 and lithium at 9 were also found. Reaching a core temperature of near 107-109°F, these hot springs are classified as 'primary hot springs' with neutral waters at 7.3 PH, which I've rounded to 7.0 for the sake of specific classification. No serious trace of extremely harmful bacteria, though there was a small reading that could attribute to the common--"

"Don't make me switch off my audio receivers, Ratch'," Ironhide muttered, annoyed. He turned in his seat and glanced up at his friend, optic to optic. "So what does this tell us?"

Ratchet smiled and shook his head lightly. "The water appears to be just fine," he answered. He placed the 'pad back on the makeshift table and moved over to the older mech. "It may or may not be perfectly suitable for humans; I must collect more data on their organic immune systems before I jump to raw conclusions," Ratchet conversed, folding his arms over his chest. "For such tiny primitive organisms with pathetically short lifespans, their inner workings and designs are quite intriguing and complex."

"That's probably the only thing about 'em that is," Ironhide grumbled. "Everythin' else... They're just like drones who panic at the first sight of danger."

"I'm sure in time your misanthropy for the human species will subside," Ratchet said, taking a seat beside his comrade. "You've certainly warmed up to Sam and Mikaela. Lennox especially."

Ironhide raised three digits. "Three of 'em I can handle - without destroying anything," he insisted.

Ratchet laughed, dropping his hands in his lap. It had been hard for Ironhide to adjust to Earth and its cultures, with all its vast differences. Not to mention, he was a mech built for combat, and ever since the destruction of Megatron, little to no contact with any Decepticons had been made. Rather they were scheming their next attack or honestly backing out of the war, no one knew. The arrival of other Autobots had remained elusive. Of course this made Ironhide restless; not to mention, sometimes he'd mope that by doing nothing, he felt others were actually beginning to realize he was, indeed, an "old geezer".

There was no way he was going into early retirement - none of them were - but for now, he'd have to wait for the trouble to find him. To look for it here would endanger both the planet and its occupants. They'd wait for their people searching for them out in the stars, and they'd be ready for those who came with ill intent.

Silence passed between the two, something that once put Ironhide off but now seemed to have grown on him. They watched the rain and lightning, listened to the thunder. It wasn't out of discomfort or awkwardness when Ratchet next spoke, but rather simply to state an opinion and observation. Sitting with Ironhide in complete silence, to the medic, was not as terrifying as it was to, say, Bumblebee. It was actually rather soothing.

"When the rain water hits the hot springs," Ratchet noted, pointing outside, "the higher the content of the steam rises."

Ironhide hadn't been paying much mind to the springs, but he widened his optics when he saw the large waves of white steam pour off the surface of the pools. Ratchet was right; the amount had increased. It was an interesting sight, almost beautiful, something that you wouldn't see on Cybertron. But all that smoke rising gave way to memories of fire, memories of cities and fellow Autobots burning and fleeing, engulfed in flames. He had to look away when the memories started to actually hurt.

Ratchet easily picked up his pain again and smiled sadly. "It's something unlike anything else on our planet," he said quietly, placing a hand on Ironhide's back, "take the beauty in and program a new memory."

Ironhide looked over to the neon green and yellow mech, blinked then laughed. "Oh, don't go gettin' sentimental on me," he chortled, brushing off Ratchet's hand. "I'm fine. I'm just ready to get back on the road!"

Ratchet frowned. "Given the current condition of the rain..."

"Oh no," Ironhide quickly interjected, knowing exactly what the CMO was going to say next. He angrily pointed a finger at him. "We are not staying the night here!"

"Who said anything about the night?" Ratchet inquired, stiffening his shoulders. "I was going to suggest until the rain let up. I mean, it might just be another cycle or two--"

Ironhide bristled a little. "Radio transmissions say it's gonna last another ten cycles. At least, most of the humans who can read the weather say that," he informed. During his time alone while Ratchet was working, he had been listening to various radio stations provided with his alt mode, just to pass the time.

"Ten cycles, huh?" Ratchet echoed. He tapped a finger to his chin and glanced at the ground. "Did they say anything else?" he inquired.

Temperatures would drop into the low 70's around six, possibly reaching 74°F around midnight, with a 24 percent chance of hail and wind velocity at 35 MPH. "Not much," he lied in a quiet voice. If Ratchet knew, there was no way they'd be getting out of there before the night was over.

But Ratchet pretty much saw through his lie. "We'll wait it out here, see if the storm dies down any time soon," he insisted, standing and moving to the back of the tent, the tarp violently thrashing above his head. "If the wind decreases, I think we can pull it off."

Ironhide growled and drew to his feet, not one ounce pleased. "It's a small risk to take. The least amount of damage we'd sustain would be a knock over on our sides. We've faced worse storms than this, you know; we just gotta pick ourselves back up if we fall," he argued. His words darkened as he finished, "At least, that's what soldiers do. Weather in any condition, especially a simple storm like this, is no excuse to sit huddled between trees beneath a big sheet of plastic!"

"Your sarcasm is duly noted," Ratchet riposted, hunched back over his equipment. "It's just that sometimes, field medics like myself get very tired of going out in this weather and having to drag soldiers back to shelter after being thrown around like pebbles in the wind and struck by lightning in electric storms, all due to their reckless, stubborn pride."

"This is not Cybertron, the rain here isn't acidic or harmful," Ironhide seethed, frustration growing within his spark chamber. "We'll get wet, we might get roughed up a little, but we won't deactivate!"

Ratchet turned and faced Ironhide with a cold look in his optics. "Again, I didn't say anyone would 'deactivate'," he countered, "and if you feel you're obligated to go soldiering off into gales, hail and dust storms, please - be my guest." He swished a hand at the exit then started back to his table. "I'd rather not take my chances; I'll stay until everything settles down. So, go on ahead without me. I'll catch up with you later tonight or possibly tomorrow morning."

Ironhide's faceplates twisted with frustration. "I'm not gonna leave you, you glitch!" he barked. "As a soldier, as your comrade _and_ your bondmate!"

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Ratchet insisted. "I am, after all, trained in that field."

Ironhide felt like punching something. No, blowing something up. Maybe the entire mountain surrounding them. Even then, that'd do very little for his temper tantrum. "You're such a stubborn afthole," he fumed.

"The same goes for you," Ratchet crooned, unfazed.

"Frag you," Ironhide cursed. He knew Ratchet could do fine without him, alone or in battle. But he didn't drive nearly nine hours out here to return by his lonesome, leaving his comrade by himself. Especially when he didn't know the directions to get back to base; that had been programed into Ratchet's databanks, not his.

With no other choice but to accept his partner's terms, Ironhide gave the ground one large, heavy kick, sending a giant chunk of earth flying outside, landing perfectly in the simmering hot spring ten yards away. To show he was still angry, he gave the hole he made a blast with his cannon, though this only succeeded in making him look childish. Ratchet didn't say anything, just silently accepted his rage and kept quiet as the other Autobot finally settled to cursing and mumbling, huddled off in a corner.

Ratchet waited until Ironhide quieted before he said, softly and sincerely, "Thank you."

"Feh."

The medic smiled.

+

"The sudden climate drop could be attributed to what the humans are calling 'global warming'," Ratchet had told Ironhide shortly after the mech shed his fury.

No matter what it was, the storm continued to rage, with no sign of moving on any time soon. It had been an hour since then, and Ironhide was still upset he wasn't on the road back to base. Though the sky had darkened from the rain clouds, it was pitch black now that the sun was gone.

With rain and winds like the ones roaring above and around them, headlights would do nothing driving out in this condition, especially with it being so dark and no help within miles but a small town of people who would shit themselves upon seeing injured alien robots instead of calling for proper help instead. The frequent lightning would help illuminate things, but that wasn't exactly something they would consider counting on.

Ironhide looked aside, watching as Ratchet packed up his equipment, data and spring water collection, placing each bit in spare compartments on his body. As he finished tidying up, the weapon's specialist noticed a slight quiver rush down Ratchet's backbone infrastructure and a small wobble in his left heel. He narrowed his optics, voice stern, "You're low on energy, aren't you?"

Ratchet cast him a surprised look. "Ah, slightly. Not enough for me to worry about, though," he agreed, twisting his foot around. "All that driving today did a little number on me. Again, nothing to concern yourself with."

"Who said I was concerned?" Ironhide smirked.

"My bad," Ratchet bantered.

The dark mech stood, his systems giving a soft whirr with the motion. "The temperature outside has decreased. It's not too cold, but I've activated my temperature core on a low setting to keep a steady flow of energy," he informed. With a smarmy grin, he purred, "I take it with the lack of energy, you're having a difficult time jump-starting your own heating system, aren't you?"

Ratchet scowled. "I could activate it if I wished," he disagreed quickly, "but it would only waste more valuable energy."

"I'll agree with you there, for once," Ironhide chuckled. He approached the medic, standing beside him. "Why don't you go into recharge? It'll conserve more energy for you to gab with later on, right?"

"Yes, but not to everything you said," Ratchet retorted, half-risible half-annoyed. A moment later, he had transformed into his Hummer H2 mode, much smaller beneath the tarp tent. "And you should consider heeding your own advice as well."

Ironhide gave the rescue vehicle a light nudge (even to Ratchet's standards) with his foot. "Don't worry about me," he joked, "I'm the toughest."

Ratchet gave his engine one little growl before going silent.

"I'll keep you warm, doc," Ironhide continued to taunt, before gently spreading his arms over the Hummer and resting a comfortable amount of weight against him. Enough for both of them to be content.

Ratchet felt a shiver run through his chassis; not one of cold, but of pleasure. In his bipedal mode, Ironhide radiated more heat externally, that which was cocooning the medic along with his arms and chest pressed against his top. He could practically hear Ironhide's spark pulse in his audiols. This had to be the most warmest feeling in the world, listening to Ironhide's spark beat softly in its chamber so close.

For a crass, bold and ruthless soldier, Ironhide could also be one of the most gentle mechs in all of Cybertron.

Before Ratchet's systems shut down, he murmured words to Ironhide in a language the dark mech had almost forgot was their own. It made him smile despite everything, and just as Ratchet went completely offline, he returned the "I love you" in Cybertronian as well.


	2. Chapter 2

The storm carried on throughout the night. Luckily, the tent had held up against the winds and rain, roaring wildly above Ironhide and Ratchet's heads. Nonetheless, all the commotion didn't seem to bother either of them. They both went into peaceful recharge together, sleeping through the chaos as if it were a mere drizzle. Only once did Ironhide get torn from his sleep; Prime had radioed them on their status around nine. When he realized his men were in no trouble, the slight detection of calmly controlled distress disappeared from his voice and he let them return back to their slumber.

By dawn, the storm clouds had moved over the mountains, slowly drifting past the desert. Back in the city, the rain would continue for another hour or so. Strangely enough, the sound of the rain making nothing more than a soft pitter-patter was what shook the two Autobots from their recharge.

Ironhide rolled back onto his rear as Ratchet transformed. "It looks like it finally stopped," he noted, massaging the plating between his shoulder and neck. He peered out the tent, admiring the beautiful landscape; the dull rays of sunlight made the valley glisten, the steam wisping from the hot springs in thick curls and clouds. It was breathtaking, peaceful and soothing - something he missed back on Cybertron.

"Slagging thing lasted the entire night," Ironhide said grumpily, moving to Ratchet's side. He had to admit, the view was stunning, but he'd never say it out loud. Not at the risk of sounding like some sap. "You think we can get our afts back to base now? Prime expects our return in at least 10:23 cycles, gathering the trip takes about nine."

Ratchet acknowledged him with a nod. "We'll leave soon," he agreed, "but first - there's something I'd like to do."

Ironhide cocked an optic ridge. "What? It better not involve another ten cycles of you studying water."

"Well, no, not really," Ratchet replied with a little smirk.

"What are you getting at?"

Ratchet just chuckled, said nothing more and ducked out of their makeshift shelter. Ironhide watched him curiously as the giant mech stretched out his limps, metal scraping against metal, making soft hissing and groaning noises. The way the sunlight bounced off his chassis, illuminating the chartreuse and pale yellows and red - the weapon's specialist had to look away, clearing his throat loudly to distract the more imaginative part of his cerebral processor.

"There's this one last thing I want to do," Ratchet added and approached the large hot spring. He dipped his foot into the water, retracting it a second later. It was only out of instinct he had tested the spring, for he knew its contents displayed little harm to his structure.

Just as he took a full step into the water, Ironhide burst out from the tent, bristled up like a wet cat. "Oh, no!" he snapped. Ratchet stopped and gazed back at him. "You're _not_ gonna take a swim!"

"Well, I do have to do more hands on testing too, you know," Ratchet stated. Nonetheless, he stood still, not moving any further. "Once I concluded the water was safe, I made plans to try it out." He tilted his head. "Why don't you join me?"

"No," Ironhide scowled. "I think we should just shift our diodes into gear and get going!"

Ratchet raised a hand to him. "It won't take long," he assured.

Ironhide glared. "Five kliks," he growled. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"If it is that critical we leave--"

"Very," the weapon's specialist snorted.

Ratchet shrugged and moved further into the pool. His feet brushed along the very bottom of the spring; standing, it reached up to his thighs alone. The medic waded in the water for a good few seconds, moving in a circle, eying the surface of the dark blue liquid. Without his x-ray vision, he could not see his feet at the bottom, where the rocks were dark and black. Ironhide impatiently stood nearby, checking his internal chronocounter every half a second.

Finally, satisfied, the CMO slowly came to a sit, propping himself against a giant boulder towards the bottom. Now the water just lightly brushed up against his shoulders. Ratchet's cooling systems released a soft grumble akin to a sigh of relief.

After a full two minutes, Ironhide's patience ran out. "Are you satisfied?" he demanded. "Get the results you came for?"

"No to both inquiries," Ratchet replied. He lifted his hand from the water, watching it pour off his fingers in small streams. Without a single word, he forcefully ripped off a small panel along his wrist, wires torn and glitching. Both he and Ironhide cursed in unison.

"What the Pit do you think you're doing!?" Ironhide exclaimed.

Ratchet watched thin lines of purple energon drip into the pool, bubbling to the surface with its thicker content. "Testing the waters, I told you," the CMO answered calmly and dipped his arm back inside. There came a sharp tingle that jolted up his limb, doing a full course three times around. However, there didn't seem to be anymore side effects that would cause more damage than he all ready had. The wound was very minor, however, so not much was to be expected, he supposed.

Ironhide marched up to the pool, stopping just short of entering. "You don't know what it could--"

"Allow me to reiterate: I've concluded countless times that the water cannot damage our systems," Ratchet repeated, raising his soaked arm. His wound remained open, but the energon flow had decreased. "I just wanted to see if it had healing proprieties like it does for humans."

"Well apparently you're not healed," the older mech snapped. He reached out and snatched Ratchet's hand, squeezing it tightly. The medic winced. "Now c'mon out of there before you start to rust or something!"

Ratchet grinned lopsidedly. "I told you, the water will do us no harm."

"I don't care if it'll turn you golden and indestructible, we're wasting valuable time! Let's go," Ironhide seethed, tugging Ratchet's hand.

The medic scowled. "I'm not finished yet," he insisted, yanking back his hand.

Ironhide just gave it another pull, nearly succeeding in dragging his companion out. "Who knows how long it'll take for that to heal! If it'll heal at all!" he shouted. Underlying panic told his instincts to get Ratchet out of there as quick as possible, fearing this unknown substance that, apparently, differed from the usual 'water'. Though Ratchet had told him time and time again he'd be fine, it just didn't sit well with the weapon's specialist. New and foreign things never really did.

Ratchet, however, was not about to let Ironhide have his way. Both mechs were stubborn and it was obvious as shown in their type of tug-o-war with the medic's arm. Ratchet narrowed his optics and coiled his digits into a fist. "I'm not," he seethed, before using all his strength to wrench his hand free, " _leaving yet_!"

To both the Autobots shock, the pull had been strong enough for Ironhide to lose his balance and footing, flung forward. Ratchet gaped as he watched the darker mech's chassis close in on top of him. A second later, Ironhide hit him and the water, both bots disappearing beneath the surface, save for their tangled limbs up in the air.

Ironhide stood quickly, furiously shaking the water off like a wet dog. He turned and looked back, watching Ratchet submerge. "Frag you, Ratchet!" he snarled.

"I-Ironhide," the medic sputtered, optics wide. He bolted to a stand, water pouring in rivets off his body. He reached out and took the soldier by the arms. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine!" Ironhide fumed, giving the medic a forceful shove away to the chest. Ratchet tumbled over, the small of his back hitting a jutting rock, scraping along the metal with an ear piercing screech; paint chipped off in a single line. Ironhide's face twisted in surprise; he turned to his teammate sinking painfully back into the hot water.

Ratchet touched his back with a grimace, the weapon's specialist kneeling beside him. "Is the damage extensive?" Ironhide inquired, repressing the concern in his voice.

"Unfortunately for you, no," Ratchet groaned. "Superficial at best."

Ironhide snorted and stood upright. He shook a little more, retracting his missiles and weapons to see if they had sustained any damage. Water had managed to sneak into his compartments, gushing out when he opened them. He grumbled irritably. "I should test the guns," he said with a bitter sneer, "see if they're still in working condition."

"That's just an excuse to blow something up and you know it," Ratchet snapped. He gave the surface of the water a slap. "Why don't you just sit down and cool yourself off?" This made him chuckle to himself just a bit, considering the heat of the water.

Ironhide stiffened. "I'm not wounded," he spat, "so there's no need." He then made his way back to dry land.

Ratchet grabbed his hand. Ironhide came to a halt and glowered back at him. "If I said 'pretty please', would you reconsider?" the medic inquired softly, a pleasant little smile playing at his lip components.

Ironhide's optics shuttered. The way Ratchet looked so sweet, so... inviting.. The old soldier gave another deep throaty grumble. "If I join you, then we leave when I say we leave," he ordered, pointing down at the mech. "No stalling, no begging or pleading for more time. Got it?"

Ratchet shot up a hand. "By Primus's honor," he promised.

Ironhide muttered various incoherent, unrelated ramblings as he reluctantly slipped into the pool, until he was sitting adjacent of Ratchet. Ratchet smiled at him then went to checking his wound. The energon flow had stopped, but nothing more. The medic had anticipated the healing components of the hot springs may only effect organic materials, but still he hoped. He didn't voice this observation and just dipped his hand back into the water, sitting against the rock that had previously scratched his back.

+

"Any progress?"

"No, none."

"Figures."

Ratchet flicked water at the 'bot. "How about you?" he queried. "Feeling relaxed? If that's even possible, that is."

"You're one to talk, and no," Ironhide said quickly. The warm water, however, was starting to loosen up his stiff joints. Still, it hadn't cured him of his sullied mood.

"Even if it can't heal any of our wounds," Ratchet conversed and sunk deeper into the hot water, "at least it's soothing. I'm sure at least Prime and Bumblebee would enjoy this." He had masked the condescending tone just enough to confuse his partner.

Ironhide mumbled and looked aside. He could no longer see the rain clouds. "They could just stand out in the rain and get the same as this," he said, giving the water a careless slap, as if it would actually wound the substance.

Ratchet dimmed his optics. "For some reason," he smirked, "I find that hard to believe in comparison."

Ironhide just made a little 'feh' and flopped back. Just as his back made contact with the rocks, there came a soft beeping from the tent. Ratchet sat up immediately, optics onlining. "What's that?" Ironhide demanded.

"The results for my last test are finished," Ratchet answered. He withdrew from the water and headed back to their shelter, leaving a wet trail behind him.

For some reason, Ironhide kept still, though his processors were telling him to get up and use this chance to get them moving. But he stayed there, letting the circulation of the water move through his gears. It felt kinda good - kinda.

A moment later, Ratchet came stumbling from the tent, overjoyed. "You won't believe this!" he exclaimed, causing Ironhide to jump in shock and nearly shoot a missile at him.

Ironhide turned in his seat, snarling, "Primus - Well, what?"

The doctor showed him the datapad. "I cross ran the water's content with various viral bacterias, both human and Cybertronian, from samples I brought along," he explained happily, "and the water completely eliminated all the components of a scarplet's DNA!"

Ironhide was surprised, though not visibly so. The results on the 'pad were irrefutable evidence that what Ratchet was telling him wasn't idealistic bullshit. "Scraplets?" he echoed, awed. "You found a way to kill those little slaggers...?"

"With water!" Ratchet shouted, taking back the datapad. "We just discovered the cure to the scraplet disease, Ironhide! Can you believe it?"

The old soldier couldn't help but slowly smile then break out into laughter. "Well, slag! I'll be damned."

Ratchet shook the 'pad at him. "I guess all my research was worth it in the end, wasn't it?" he teased with a snarky little grin.

"Now you're just rubbing it in."

Ratchet was too busy floating on his happy little cloud to hear him. He read and reread the datapad, and with each read his blue optics seemed to glow brighter and brighter. Ironhide's smile widened. He knew this was a glorious moment for his friend. Discovering a cure for a deadly disease was perhaps one of the greatest achievements and rewards a medic of any species could receive. The raw and intense happiness that radiated from Ratchet touched Ironhide's own spark.

The cranky veneer parted; Ironhide reached out and wrapped his arms in a bear hug around Ratchet's waist. The CMO startled, ripped from his fantasy, as Ironhide cackled and threw him into the pool. Water gushed up like a geyser, drenching everything around it within five to ten feet.

Ratchet popped out of the water with an alarmed face, flapping his arms in a bird-like manner. Before he could demand what the Hell Ironhide thought he was doing, the old soldier just threw himself onto him, pinning him against the rocks, arms wrapped tightly around his torso. "You - What's gotten into you?" Ratchet scowled, though he had to admit this was a nice change of mood.

"I'm ecstatic," Ironhide answered, "that I don't have to blow scrap up to ease my temper after going on what I thought would be a pointless mission."

Ratchet just laughed and gave his head a little shake. "You scared me for a moment," he taunted, "I thought the water did something to your logic circuits."

"If you'd rather I not be in a good mood, I'm fine with reverting back to my previous one," the old mech gibed with a playful snort.

"No, no," Ratchet chuckled. He dimmed his optics and pressed the top of his helm against Ironhide's chin tenderly. "I rather like this."

Ironhide smirked and rested his chin on top of his head. "Enjoy it. It's a rarity."

Ratchet said nothing; he drew back, sliding the side of his helm against the side of his comrade's. The medic nuzzled Ironhide's face tenderly. The water bubbled as their engines gave soft pleasurable purrs below. "Looks like you're in an even greater mood than I am," the weapon's specialist teased, continuing to cuddle, helm to helm.

"You might as well enjoy it too," Ratchet snickered.

The mechs wrapped their arms around one another, until their entire chassis were pressed together. Metal groaned against metal as they continued their tango, gently rubbing their faceplates against each other, pawing, feeling, nudging. In feline fashion, they wrapped around each other, coiled in their embrace tight and firm. Beneath the water, their feet pet and touched, knees brushing together.

The Autobots' digits clicked and tapped in a type of sing-song rhythm as they squeezed closer, until near every part of their body was touching. Ratchet rolled along Ironhide's chest as the latter soldier ground his hips hard into his. The plating was especially sensitive, and the soft current and heat of the water only added to the sensitivity. This made for some interesting noises to come out of the medic's mouth, vents opening to breath bubbles of heat into the water.

The courting dance continued for another minute or two, Ratchet and Ironhide making sure they had touched and caressed every possible part of each other, as if marking territories, kneading and readying their chassis for more. Not a word passed as Ironhide opened his chest panel, revealing an exotic display of wiring and circuitry, all twirled and wrapped protectively in and around his spark chamber.

As he went about fiddling with his circuitry, Ratchet complied with the silent request and opened his own chest plating. Both Autobots disconnected one end of a set of six purple cords connected to their spark chambers. They had served as types of veins pumping energy and fluids from their spark into their system and back, much like a human heart and its vessels.

"The water ain't gonna do any damage to our interior, right?" Ironhide grumbled, nervously unplugging another wire.

"Not at all," Ratchet assured. "You'll be just fine."

Satisfied with his answer, the two unraveled their cords; Ironhide caressed the bare sockets in Ratchet's chest in uncharacteristic tenderness before plugging one wire in. Ratchet returned the touch with his own soft petting, connecting and wound cords and wiring. Within a minute, their wires had been crisscrossed, one end of each connected to their own spark, the others to their partner's. One per chest, one per throat, two in each hip and two connected in ports in their inner thighs' paneling.

Ironhide pressed his hand next to Ratchet's spark chamber. "You ready?"

Ratchet replied by placing his hand very delicately on Ironhide's chamber. With mutual agreement, each bot spread open their chamber doors, revealing their bright sparks from within, orbs of blue and white light glowing with indescribable emotion.

Ironhide was the first to make a move. He slipped his large fingers inside Ratchet's chamber, until they caressed the bare surface of the medic's spark. Ratchet trembled with anticipation as the touch sent a small surge of energy through his system's circuitry, and initially, into Ironhide connected on the other end. Finally, the weapon's specialist plunged his hand inside, palming the spark with a force hard but gentle enough to enjoy.

Ratchet immediately fell forward into his hands, moaning loudly. His caressed spark released more waves of energy through his body and into Ironhide, causing the black 'bot to shiver. He reached his own hand into Ironhide's chamber, pawing at his spark much more delicately. However, even the most simple of touches sent the sensitive spark to flush more electricity through their systems.

The combination of their spark energies coursing through their bodies forced the Autobots to wrap themselves back up in each other, making sure every bit of heat and energy that sparked from their bodies was shared. They continued to squeeze and knead each others sparks, their very lifeforces, all the while never too hard as to harm the other.

Though it was always hard for Ironhide to be so gentle; his hands had been built to tear enemies apart, calloused and war worn. Wounds he refused to repair to remind him of victories and tragedies. But at times, he knew the limits of his strength and with Ratchet, he was very careful as to not exert too much force.

Ratchet, however, was the exact opposite. For a good deal of his life, most of his hands went to holding datapads and shaking with those of superiors and politicians. When the war tore apart all he knew and who he previously was, those soft delicate hands were worn and strained from all the damage he had tended to in his patients; yet they remained so smooth. The way he fondled Ironhide's spark was perfect; he knew the mech inside and out, figuratively and literally, and knew just where to squeeze and just when to let go.

Rushes of power poured into their wires, along with it memories, thoughts, their very core beings. With every pulse of their spark, something once private became shared.

The first time Ratchet and Ironhide had bonded, Ratchet felt coolant rise to his optics after seeing so much of the torture and pain his comrade had gone through. Likewise, when Ironhide saw, heard and damn well felt the ache of Ratchet's many losses of patients and friends, he felt something in his spark throb with pain; this part had been reserved only to mourn when battles and lives he surveyed and worked alongside were lost.

They had been quiet when they finished, the initial shock of sharing systems slowly thinning out. But neither cried, neither moped for too long, because it was not just each others wounds they had seen, but all their victories, their blessings and their memories of happier times, of better times, of good times. They came to a mutual admiration for their bravery, and understood though one had been designed to take lives, and another to save them, they were very much the same. They were equals.

As they bonded this time, they saw memories and read thoughts they had seen many times over, both pleasant and painful. They learned to numb themselves from the toxic memories when they imploded in their systems, radically accepting the reality; this thus allowed them to comfortably enjoy the more pleasurable experiences.

Ironhide seeing Ratchet walk a wounded soldier he had pulled back from the very brink of the Pit to his sobbing bondmate and Ratchet seeing Ironhide greeting a fleet of young soldiers telling him how they wanted to be just like him one day - it made them both smile. It made all those horrible memories worthwhile; as long as there'd continue to be these types of results.

As they reached closer to overload, Ironhide growled as he forcefully kneaded the side of his head against Ratchet's neck, little sparks dancing from the cord connected on the opposite side of his throat. The soldier's free hand fondled gracelessly at his back, subconsciously gentle when he reached the scrape along the small of his back.

Ratchet moaned into his partner's arms, one hand stroking Ironhide's bright blue spark, the other heavily petting him up and along his hip. He tweaked the wire connected to Ironhide's thigh, causing an erratic jolt of electric shock to pierce the old mech's armor. Ironhide mewled like a kitten (surprisingly enough) deep in his throat, hungrily drinking in his bondmate's body and energy. Ratchet bit into Ironhide's shoulder as he dug his sharp claws above the sensitive plating along his backbone infrastructure. Their vents screamed out steam along with the water, shivering and quaking around their massive forms.

Finally, the amount of energy the sparks had contained finally broke loose of their restraints. Pure and raw spark energy sent jolts of electricity through the Autobots like tsunami waves. Ratchet dropped his head back, releasing a groan that reverberated throughout the mountain's valley, his entire body glowing as the energy surged through every sinew-like cord and wire. Ironhide dropped forward, his head resting against his comrade's exposed chest as a howl bubbled from his lips from deep inside him. The couple trembled as the water lashed violently around them.

A minute later, their bodies, paralyzed by the force of their fading overload, finally went lax. Their once blindingly bright sparks were now dull with exhaustion, the last bits of energy sending relief, exhaust and dwindling pleasure from one 'bot to the other. Ratchet and Ironhide collapsed clumsily into the pool, sending a gush of water to hit the dry land around its ring. They stretched out as far as their limbs would allow, legs still intertwined beneath the surface. Their cooling systems sent coolant rushing through their chassis, struggling to contain the amount of heat from both their bodies and the water to a minimum and reasonable level.

For a few moments, neither Autobot said a word. Their vocalizers, like the rest of their bodies, were playing catch up as their systems found a balance. Ironhide recovered first, one slightly shaky hand gently shutting his spark chamber's door, hiding his mechanical heart and soul once more.

Ratchet tilted his head against the rocks and smiled tiredly. "Who overloaded first?" he inquired, playfully.

"You," Ironhide insisted smugly.

Together the two untangled their wires from each other, tucking them away. Ratchet shut his chestplates, listening to the clasps lock into place. "You have to admit," he said, swishing around hot water, "this turned out to be more of a vacation than a scientific expedition."

The old soldier lumbered out of the springs with a slight sway. "It would be if I ever got to shoot something," he blubbered. "I mean, out here in the middle of nowhere, no one would see--"

"No."

"It's not like they'd miss one cactus or--"

" _No_."

Ironhide pursed his lips. "You're killing the afterglow," he grumbled.

"Better than you killing something," Ratchet smirked.

Ironhide just shook his head, disappointed. He watched as water dripped and poured off his metal chassis before looking out into the valley. As his optics scanned the scarce amount of life, he listened as the medic continued to bathe in the hot water, humming something old from a time many ages ago.

"It's not much."

Ratchet lifted his head and peered up at his bondmate. Ironhide was gazing off somewhere in the distance over his helm. "It's not much," the weapon's specialist repeated, "but we can claim it for ourselves."

The medic blinked. "Claim it...?" he murmured. "Do you mean...?"

Ironhide dragged a long claw into the ground. "Here." Another line; a large 'x'. "Let's make it ours," he said, too embarrassed to look Ratchet in the face.

Ratchet stared at him thoughtfully before a smile crept back on his face. "All right," he agreed softly, "this'll be our solace."

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SCRAPLETS** : Robotic parasites, basically, as seen in the original Marvel comics as well as Transformers: Prime. In the comics, water turned out to be the cure for scraplets. Also, harhar, there's another reference to G1 in this story. Did you find it? ;)
> 
>  **BONDING** : I didn't want to include anything too human-like, such as kissing and anything involving below the waist. I wanted it to appear more animalistic and raw, focusing less on their humanoid features and more on their robotic ones, thus sparkbonding. Though I don't think the way they interfaced was anything original, really, except I didn't have their sparks join together, but rather release pulses of energy instead.
> 
> Ah, really, the mission of this fic was to just write simple, established-'Hide/Ratch' fic. I like stories where the relationship is subtle and just... there, nothing too outrageous and flaunted around.
> 
> I hope ya'll enjoyed it.


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